Devil's Deal: A Dark Fantasy Romance

50. Collateral

Three more days pass without Woland coming to see me, and I don’t call on him. I spend this time plotting and thinking. I’m not sure if losing my virginity will unlock my magic, and I don’t even know if he’ll want me. I still remember the way he looked at my naked body and said I was too thin.

Maybe his desire for me passed, just like he said it would.

But I’m desperate, and this is my only solid plan, so I make an effort to comb through my hair with my fingers every day and wash my scalp with water and clean river sand.

Then my period starts, and I lose all will to live and make an effort. Of course, this is when he chooses to show up.

I’m on my second day, curled up in a small hollow between the roots of a tree. The tree is dying, its leaves raining down on me, and the moss I rest on is black and dry, but I don’t have the power to move. The pain is even worse than usual without my yarrow and red clover brew. Being out in the open feels awful, too. I want to be inside, in my bed, covered in blankets.

“Would you like me to take care of you?” Woland asks, his voice perfectly neutral, after he emerges from the shadow of the tree.

I don’t even look up. My face is sweaty, the hair that I took such pains to wash and comb through tangled again, strands plastered to my forehead.

“Yes,” I answer without hesitation, because I can’t stand this suffering.

He can be as smug as he wants. I’ll endure it if only he makes the pain lessen just a bit.

His sharp intake of breath lets me know he’s surprised, but then, his shadows race to wrap around every inch of me, enveloping me in a warm cocoon of safety. I whimper with relief, sinking into him, and my body relaxes, the pain seeping out in waves.

When he sits down cross-legged right in front of me, I glance up, but I don’t have the strength to lift my head enough to see his face. His beautiful body swings into view, tall, robust, and lean, and I sag into comfort.

For all his vices, Woland has one thing going for him. He makes me feel completely safe, because I know nothing and no one can ever hurt me if he stands guard.

I sigh in bliss. He strokes my sweaty hair from my face, his fingers gentle and warm. I doze off when his quiet voice brings me back.

“I hate seeing you like this. Exhausted, underfed, and in pain. You have no idea how much it costs me not to lay all the comforts at my disposal at your feet.”

“Why don’t you?” I ask sleepily.

He barks a short, humorless laugh.

“Because then I’ll have even less to bargain with, and time is running out. You have ten days left. The good news is, I’m getting accustomed to the idea of doing what I must. I think I’ll even enjoy it. But you won’t.”

I huff, irritated, but my annoyance isn’t very strong. I am too relieved that my pain is gone to be mad.

“Why don’t you just tell me what it is to threaten me properly?”

He laughs warmly, stroking my cheek with a knuckle. “Nice try.”

I sigh and snuggle into his warm, comforting shadows. He snaps his fingers. A tantalizing scent of food wafts up to me, and I give a shaky moan of need.

“Yes, darling. I will feed you, too.”

A moment later, he brings a warm piece of roast meat to my lips. I take it in, so eager, my tongue brushes his fingers in my haste. He inhales sharply, and I would have smiled if I wasn’t so busy chewing.

So maybe he still wants me. Maybe not all is lost.

He feeds me the meat, some greens, and turnips dripping in butter, then gives me a drink of something clear and sweet that tastes like nothing I ever had before. Fragrances and tastes mix in the drink, a bit like flowers, a bit like fruit. Woland laughs as I grab his hand greedily when he tries to take the cup away.

“You could have all this and better every day,” he says playfully, not really trying to sound tempting.

It’s like he knows I won’t agree, and his temptations and threats have become a standing joke between us. I snort and look at his face, a retort ready on my tongue.

I forget what I meant to say as soon as I take him in.

He looks so peaceful. Happy. His eyes are warm, forehead smooth, his sensuous mouth soft with a playful smile. He looks years younger and so beautiful, I want to etch him in a piece of wood so I can see him like this forever.

When I stare for too long, Woland frowns, breaking the spell.

“What is it?”

I look away, swallowing the flood of emotions that tighten my throat. “Nothing. Just… Thank you.”

He huffs softly, and when I glance up, his forehead is smooth again, his face peaceful. Something twists in my chest, a longing so strong, it’s like physical pain. I try to burrow deeper into his shadows, but they don’t ease this ache.

I don’t even know what hurts so much.

“We have a bit more time today,” he says, lying down behind me.

His shadows let him in, and he curls tightly around my back, cradling me against his body. He puts his arm under my head, and it’s infinitely more comfortable than the blackened moss. I sigh deeply. He is solid and safe, and when he lays a careful hand on my belly, a wave of warmth radiates into me until the last traces of my pain dissipate.

He smells so familiar, like smoke and musk, and I breathe him in with pleasure. It shames me that I enjoy his presence and closeness so much. It feels like a betrayal of all the people he killed, but in my current state, I don’t have the strength to push him away.

“Haven’t you considered you don’t need to own me? I might have done everything you wanted if you were nice to me from the start,” I say sleepily, snuggling into him. “No need to claim me, just ask.”

“It’s not that simple,” he sighs. “But I have ruminated on all the mistakes I made with you at length, if that helps.”

I laugh softly. “So you admit you made mistakes.”

“Many. I have extensive plans for making it up to you once we’re all safe and the war is over.”

I curl my fingers around his hand and match my breathing to his calm rhythm. We lie in silence for some time, but sleep eludes me. I am deeply aware that we are on borrowed time. It’s like we both decided on a truce today, but like he says, there is a war, and it seems our conflict won’t be over until there is peace again. Or maybe not even then.

“Can you tell me what that war is about?” I ask, remembering he said it wasn’t like mortal fights over fertile land.

“What all big wars are about,” he rumbles, pressing himself more firmly into me. “Those who rule want to keep ruling, those in power are greedy for more, and those who are exploited rebel and fight for their lives. It’s about greed and survival, and it won’t be over until we win.”

I ponder it for a while and snicker. “Which side are you on, just to be clear? Because you seem pretty powerful to me. Are you the one exploiting? Or exploited?”

He laughs softly, his chest vibrating at my back.

“I will tell you a secret, poppy girl. I am both.”

I frown, about to ask him to clarify, but his hand slides lower down. He hikes up my dress and gently pets the hair between my legs, and I sigh, feeling him grow hard against the back of my thigh.

“I still owe you that orgasm,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head.

I purse my lips, annoyance mixing with arousal in my belly. It’s an unpleasant shock when I realize how much I still want him, and for a moment, I consider pushing him away. He hurt me in ways I can never forgive.

And yet, if I am going to use him to try to free my magic, I have to let him do what he will. It certainly doesn’t hurt that I want him, too. And my ulterior motive helps me justify lying with the murderer who destroyed my life.

“No, you owe me an explanation. What else does this mark do apart from killing plants and people?” I ask, letting him touch me.

Diwa said he never marked a person, though she might be wrong. But I don’t want to assume. Before I met the rusalkas, I was convinced it was a kind of curse meant to spread evil, yet now I suspect it might be more.

Woland keeps playing with my curls but doesn’t venture further. He hums in thought, his warm breath settling on my scalp.

“It’s a kind of claim,” he says at length. “And a warning, which you already know. Incidentally, I have no qualms about letting Chors see what I do to you. He deserves an eyeful after he dared to mark you.”

So he heard my conversation with the rusalkas. I’m not even angry, just amused, especially when I remember the ridiculous things Wisla said about him. “In love.” She was the funny one, not me.

“And do you pine after my pussy?” I ask with a snort of laughter.

His fingers dip between my legs, gently teasing my lower lips apart. “Every day.”

I meant it as a joke, but he sounds serious. I don’t dwell on it, though, too busy gasping from pleasure. He slowly runs his fingers over my hot skin, his touch perfectly light and blissful. I know I’m covered in blood, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

But no, I can’t get carried away yet. He’s in a sharing mood, and I have so many questions.

“So how was Chors’ mark different from yours?” I ask.

Wisla said a mark like that can only be removed by the person who made it, so I wonder if the one Chors gave me was the same or different.

He snorts, his touch growing harder. I buck against him with a gasp.

“The difference is, I am more powerful than him, and you are only mine, whether you like it or not.”

“This again,” I breathe, my voice strained as I open my legs wider to give him more access. “I’m yours but you’re everyone’s?”

He growls, nipping at my ear when his finger plunges inside me. “Fuck, you’re tight. And no. I can be yours, too, if you want. Only yours.”

“Wait. Claws,” I gasp, very aware of his finger pushing deep.

“I’ll never hurt you in a way you won’t enjoy,” he rasps, kissing my cheek and temple. “Move for me. Show me what you like.”

I want to dwell on the “in a way you won’t enjoy” part, but when he thrusts his finger deeper in, angling his palm to press against my clit, I decide to let it go. I move, haltingly at first, because I don’t exactly know what I like.

But soon, I find a rhythm and friction that feels really good, and he hums, moving his hand to match the rocking of my hips. He presses my head closer to his chest, immobilizing me until only my hips can move. His shadows slide over my skin, soothing and seducing. He moves with me now, matching the rhythm I set, his rigid cock sliding against my thigh and ass.

I buck against him, pressing into his erection, and he lets out a low, ragged moan.

“Why do you need to claim me?” I gasp out, not really expecting it to work.

“I’ll tell you if you let me fuck you the next time we meet,” he answers at once, his voice husky with pleasure.

He thrusts his finger deeper, his palm grinding against my clit. I gasp, bucking my hips to get closer and get more friction.

“No more trades,” I grit out, riding the edge of orgasm. “I don’t trust you after last time.”

He flexes his hips with a low growl. “I see you’re learning. What if I gave you collateral?”

“Like what?”

But he doesn’t answer. His shadows wrap around my throat and pour in my mouth, cutting off my air, and he fucks me with his finger until the suffocation turns into bliss. I shatter into pieces, my body breaking a bit like it did when he brought me back to life, except there is no pain now. It’s all pleasure.

When tension leaves my limbs, his shadows unravel, and I can breathe again. Woland pulls his hand away and up to his face. I turn just in time to see him plunge that finger in his mouth.

I open my lips to protest, and he grins, swiping his tongue out to lick off the last traces of red.

“Blood is blood, darling, and yours is delicious.”

“You’re incorrigible.”

He laughs and waves his hand slowly. Something shimmers, and then, a spinning red shape appears above his open palm. My eyes widen. It’s the crystal bottle he used to contain his blood during Jacek’s wake. Woland plucks it from the air and offers it to me.

“Your collateral.”

I don’t take it from him, staring at it instead. The bottle is filled to the brim with crimson, a thin, silver chain affixed to the stopper. All I can think of is what Wiosna told me: that having someone’s blood makes it possible to control them.

“Why are you giving me this?” I ask, careful to sound neutral.

Does he know that I know how powerful and important blood is? I don’t understand his motives. Maybe he really wants me to trust him enough to take his trade. Or maybe it’s another trick.

“It’s yours anyway,” he says with a shrug. “You spilled it. But I’m giving it to you so you’re safe. I can’t watch over you for the next few days. This should be enough to help you get by. If it’s not, call my name, and I’ll send someone to help you.”

I lick my lips, because the very thought of drinking his blood makes my body hum with thirst. He smirks, noticing. But when I reach for the crystal bottle, he snatches it away.

“Does it mean you agree?”

I nod. Of course, I do. It plays right into my scheme.

“The next time we meet, you get to fuck me,” I say, swallowing thickly. “And you’ll tell me why you want to claim me immediately after.”

He laughs softly. “So she learns. Very well, darling. Here, let me do it.”

He fixes the chain around my neck. I sit up, and the crystal bottle hangs between my breasts, heavy and cold.

“Wait a moment. Let me make it less obvious.”

He passes his hand over the bottle, and it shrinks, becoming the size of a pendant. I turn it in my fingers, watching the light playing in the polished surfaces of the crystal.

“It’s beautiful.”

He smiles. “I’m glad you approve. The chain will open only for you, as will the bottle. When you open it, it will go back to its original size and shrink again once you put the stopper in. It’s enchanted to vanish if anyone else gets a hold of it.”

I nod slowly, understanding why. Blood is important. What I don’t understand is why he trusts me with it—unless he told me the truth, and it really is just a way to keep me safe.

But doesn’t he think I might use it against him? I stare into his golden eyes, trying to read his thoughts, but all I see is fondness and something else, something elusive and heavy that I can’t make sense of.

Then I remember how he said my magic was weak. Maybe he doesn’t believe I have enough power to use his blood against him, and to be fair, I don’t.

“Come here.”

He leans back against the tree, pulling me into his lap. I lean my head against his chest, listening to the steady drumbeat of his heart. The rhythm reminds me of something, and I try to puzzle it out while he combs his fingers through my hair.

“Won’t you be mine, Jaga?” he asks, his voice soft and easy, as if he hadn’t demanded this so many times, as if I hadn’t said no every single time.

“Not if it means I must obey you in everything,” I reply, sighing. “But even then… No. I can’t.”

He shifts, bringing me closer so I sit on top of his erection. He rocks me in his lap, murmuring in pleasure.

“Why not? We could be good together. We are.”

I shake my head, trying to untangle my thoughts and emotions, thread by bloody thread.

“Because I feel all those people you killed, all those I killed, standing between us,” I finally say. “And it seems like the distance is insurmountable. Besides, we aren’t good together. Not really. We fight, we lie, and we’ll never be equal.”

I shift, rocking myself on him, until he grips my thigh with a low groan.

His heart rate speeds up, launching into a new rhythm, and I finally realize what the previous one reminded me of.

“Enough,” Woland murmurs, pressing down on me until I still. “That’s enough.”

He breathes hard, and I turn to look at him. His pupils are blown wide, lips parted, cheeks dark with a flush. When our eyes meet, he grins.

“But I like fighting. Equal or not, you’re the first person in a long time who poses a real challenge.”

I huff. “And once I give in, that challenge will be gone. You told me yourself.”

His smile vanishes, and he frowns, looking angry. I sigh, pressing my head back to his chest. I’m not ready for our truce to be over yet. It feels like a moment out of time, out of reality, and I need it to stretch for as long as it can.

Because I can’t stop thinking this is the last moment of peace between us. Maybe even the only one.

“Enough about us. Can you tell me why the poludnica sang that song? I just remembered it, and I’m really curious.”

He laughs quietly, wrapping his arms around me.

“Of course. Her name was Marlena, and she had a younger sister, Wanda. Both girls fell in love with the same man, but Marlena, who was serious and quiet, didn’t catch his eye. He married Wanda, who was a vibrant, cheerful girl. Marlena couldn’t stand their happiness, and it drove her crazy. One night, she poisoned her sister, who was pregnant, and slipped into her marital bed to seduce her husband. He fucked her, but when he woke up in the morning to find his wife dead and her sister in his bed, he killed her. Slashed her throat open.”

I shiver, and he laughs like it’s just an amusing story. I remember what he said about the mortal world being the source of his entertainment. Somehow, it doesn’t surprise me he finds this human tragedy worth a laugh.

“You’re evil, do you know that?” I whisper, snuggling closer.

“Yes, darling. I am the devil, am I not?”